Running From Fate
by katipo
Summary: A fed-up Jasper and broken Bella lose the Cullens, and celebrate their fresh start together. Nothing will stop the fight though, and it keeps coming. M for lemons and themes.
1. Chapter 1

_Fist clenched around his cock, he kissed the other man's neck, hiding his face in those beautiful brown locks. Moans fell from Peter's lips as Jasper pulled at his hair, frantically burying himself in his lover. A gasp, connected eyes that roll back to the beat of moans, and Peters limp, willing body._

 _"_ _Fuuuck," they whispered simultaneously._

 _Head spinning, he thrusted, almost too dizzy from lust to keep up the pace. Peter clawed at his back, legs wrapping around his sire as he spluttered every curse word he knew. Hair pulling, neck biting, grunts and moans and swearing and trying not to come too quick, this was fucking Peter. The heat, the love and the pure fucking lust was driving Jasper crazy, the emotions pressing him further, roaring for him to finish._

 _"_ _Jesus fucking Christ- fuck, Peter, I'm gonna-"_

 _Peter shoved him off and flipped them over with vampire speed, settling between the Major's legs with his signature cheeky smile. Barely registering anything but loss, the feeling of Pete's hands running up his thighs made the now powerless Major shake and gasp. Peter took Jasper's cock in his mouth, his hand kneading the begging mans balls. With wide eyes and his hands in Peter's hair, he came, hard. The brunet hummed around his girth, swallowing the thick load. Jasper fell back, letting his legs dangle off the bed, exhausted. Peter rose up and smiled at him, that secret smile...the one few get to see._

 _"_ _What about you, Captain?"_

 _His voice was low, saturated with the fuzz of orgasm, but it carried. Peter nuzzled his neck, whimpering as the blond's firm hand wrapped around him. It didn't take long before Peter was clutching at Jasper's shoulders, fingers digging into old scars and gasping his name. Now, he is the one to collapse, lazily throwing a towel over Jasper's come covered stomach._

Sucking in breaths he doesn't need, he opens his eyes. His daydream falls away as he stares at the empty sheets beside him, arm flung out but untouched. He is far from Peter, still in the Cullen's house. Groaning, he grabs a towel and cleans himself up, before deciding that a showers in order. He flings open the door to Perfect Boy glaring at him, who had obviously seen the whole thing. MindFucker.

"Dude...you have got to sort that shit out."


	2. Chapter 2

Life in Forks is boring, to say the least. Same shitty school, same shitty people, same shitty fucking diet.

I stare down at the felled mountain lion with disgust, kicking its carcass. The crinkle of leaves under my feet fills the clearing, bringing back noise to replace the ringing of adrenaline in my ears. What I'd do for a pretty neck and red, warm blood spilling down my throat, calming the burn of venom. Filling me. I nearly moan, remembering what it was like to lure someone in, sink my teeth in, feed.

This….this shit barely passes. This... 'vegetarianism' is closer to vampiric anorexia, and it's going to hurt them all before long. Fuck, half the family can't stand to be around a girl on her period at this stage. They should have given in long ago, stopped starving themselves of what they need. Blood. Human blood. Stubborn fucks.

Somehow, it's me they worry about. Me they send out early, me they direct to herds of deer, me they keep very far away from Edwards Pet. Not that I care about that. It's me who is most likely to break, in their eyes. It's almost hilarious. I am the dangerous one, not the Golden Boy who wants his teeth in his girlfriend more than his dick. They don't care about that though. Perfect little Eddie has restraint, has been on this diet for far longer than I.

But of course, pretty little Alice had to convince me to only eat animals. Showered with affection and gifts and the promise of family, I felt I could do nothing but acquiesce. Glaring at a dark tree trunk, I try to ignore the voice inside calling bullshit. Anyway, I reason, no one wants to see an angry Alice.

The autumn sun shines through the yellowing leaves, wind plays with my honey hair. I stand over my kill, solemn. Staring up at the trees that dwarf me, I wish I wasn't part of this 'happy family.' I can only think these thoughts when I'm far away from MindFucker, when Pixie can't read my face. Not that I didn't learn to hide it over the years.

I miss being a nomad, a nobody. Not getting stared at, not sitting through horribly inaccurate history lessons, not having to restrain. I could live. That's what this second life is for.

With a glance, I check my watch. 6.45. Time to leave for Bella's birthday party.


	3. Chapter 3

There is pink everywhere. Crystal bowls and rose petals and pink candles. I stopped breathing a while ago to escape the pink stench.

Alice always overdoes these things. It's always too much. Fuck, even Emmett's birthday back in 1935 was too much. Even worse, I'm expected to show up. Stupid lying 'happy families.'

Bella also disapproves, I can feel it swirling around her. The embarrassment and distress colours her cheeks, matching the pretty princess theme...or whatever the fuck is going on here. Not that I care, stupid Pet. Should have run the first chance she got. Edward shoots a stoney glare at me, obviously reading my thoughts. I subtly remind him that I can feel the bloodlust hazing his mind. _Should have gone hunting, huh Eddie-boy? Careful now, don't get too close._

When Emmett runs out to hook up the stereo, Alice lets go of me. I relax a little bit, tried to smile at Bella. I almost want to calm her down, she's just about in tears. I steel myself against the compassion shooting daggers at my back. She deserves to be uncomfortable, she _needs_ to feel this way, maybe then she'll learn. Maybe then she'll _run._

Alice hands her a silver wrapped present, shining with pride. Bella's confused just looking at the empty box, having already resigned herself to the fact that she's getting presents whether she likes it or not. She opens the packaging, searching for a clue as to what it's supposed to be. So... _lost._ It makes me laugh, and I feel guilty enough to explain the joke.

"It's a stereo for your truck. Emmett's installing it right now so that you can't return it."

Blood rises in her cheeks and tendrils of embarrassment sneak their way to me. Edward's eyes darken, just a little, leaking want...and not the sex kind.

 _For fucks sakes man._

A stab of 'fuck off' and he looks away from me. Dick.

She thanks us, and Alice steps forward with another present.

"Open mine and Edward's next," she squeaks.

She didn't even tell _me_ what was in the box, and suddenly, I'm just that little bit more curious. I step a little closer, and Emmett returns behind me.

Edward sweeps hair out of Bella's glaring eyes and reassures her that he didn't spend anything on the present. No doubt Alice bought it online then, and stuck Pretty Boy's name on the tag. At his demand.

She takes the present from Pixie, and sticks one finger under the paper to pull off the tape.

Edwards eyes go black.

"Shoot," she whispers.

Blood, a single drop.

Glittering.

Red.

Calling.

His bloodlust slams into my chest, and in a split second I know what I have to do to save her.

"No!" he yells, throwing her down on the table.

But I'm already coming for him.


	4. Chapter 4

I kick another tree.

"Jasper, calm down man," Emmett sighs from his spot on a felled trunk.

"Why the fuck should I? He fucking knows better," I growl, punching another.

I'm not going to let this go, and he knows it. Shaking his head, Emmett goes back to playing with Rosalie's golden hair. I take the lack of attention to breathe in the dusk air, filling my lungs with the smell of the forest. It's a vain attempt to purge the...strange feeling I had when Bella was threatened. I wanted to protect her.

Reasoning with myself, I decide that's not so dishonourable. It can't be wrong to want to make sure another innocent doesn't get hurt because of Edwards games. It can't be wrong to not want someone murdered in your own house. What I felt couldn't be wrong.

I ignore the fact that what I felt was something more.

I know they took it wrong. I know they think I went apeshit for just one drop. I know they didn't see it as me protecting her. They didn't see his eyes, blacker than their own, and they sure didn't feel what I did. Panic, bloodlust, possessiveness.

Hunger.

They saw him throwing Bells on the table to protect her from _me,_ not as an excuse to break his concentration. Not to protect his _food._ Not to hide that he's shaking, growling from the hunger that shades his demon eyes, to hide that he is _wanting._ Not to stop me from 'stealing' her, having her for myself- as a meal, I mean.

Shaking my head, I stop trying to think about what they think they saw. Their misinterpretation doesn't bother me, because all the fake 'facts' in the world won't hide the truth from those who know. Me. And him.

Hand wringing the back of my neck, I stare at the dented trunks surrounding me. There would be no escaping this. I know what's coming, I don't have to be Alice to guess.

Falling backwards onto the cool grass, I wait, holding on to my anger.


	5. Chapter 5

It doesn't take him long. I can smell the deer he used to soothe the hunger, but the black still swirls around, clawing at his eyes. Fighting to come through. To _feed._

I stand, dig in my feet as he sprints head on towards me. Emmett and Rosalie hear him now, and rise, concerned.

His anger meets with my own, thirst feeding frustration feeding fear. I increase his fear, just a little bit. He bought that on himself. A growl rips from his chest, and he's leaping towards me. I twist away at the last second, trying my best to keep my mind blank. Not easy to do, considering we don't often fight, and I have to judge how he attacks.

The other two watch from the sidelines, staying out of our way. Emmett will step in when it's right...if I let him.

I keep my distance, batting at Edward's head, kicking his legs out from under him, throwing him against the previously abused trunks as he runs at me again and again.

"You attacked her!" he screams, ripping the words out from a falsely wounded heart.

"I saved her," I whisper, sweeping in behind him, hands around his neck.

I'm considering taking his head off when Esme comes into sight. I sigh, it was a really good idea. He wouldn't have enjoyed it, but when did I care about what he likes? She glares at us both, and I step back, moving my hands off his shoulders. _Saved by your momma, huh Golden Boy?_ He shoots daggers at me, with the set of mouth that just screams that I'm gonna get it later. Bring it on, bitch.

I walk with Esme, and Edward fucks off back home with Pixie. It takes a while before she speaks to me, so we fill the time by weaving further through the forest. I absentmindedly claw the tree trunks, a habit from when we had to mark our territories. It doesn't work so much if you haven't got humans to keep, animals don't count.

"I thought you had hunted, Jasper," sadness clenches around her throat, and I almost feel bad.

Which is worse, I wonder? To give the truth that causes more pain, or feign weakness to protect those you care about? I've never really been able to get past that moral dilemma, especially with Esme. Either way, I refuse to apologize. Yes, my actions have consequences, but I feel no remorse for what I did.

"I did. I didn't mean to go after her. I just...didn't expect it," I lie. I always lie.

She stops walking and pats my arm. I sigh, wishing that she was strong enough to stay, to listen. But duty calls, she has to go back and play momma for everyone else. I'll be alright. I swallow the venom crawling up my throat that dares call me weak. It's better this way, I say, to protect her with lies, and they'll learn the truth soon enough. I'll make sure of that.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Bella, we're leaving."_

"You have to go."

Well that's no shock. I suppose I don't really care. No more playing at happy families, lying to everyone around me. No more stupid diet.

"You can either go to the Denali coven," nope, no stupid diet, "or you can just leave."

" _You promised! In Phoenix, you promised that you would stay-"_

" _As long as that was best for you,"_

"Personally, I think it'd be in your best interests to go visit Tanya. Get your head clear, stay out of human's way, focus on our vegetarianism. Then, when you can handle it all better...then you can come back. But I really want you to get better, I want you to come back to me, to our family."

What a load of bullshit, and she knows it. She won't come with, come to 'help me.' Probably something to do with that Duncan guy she keeps texting when she thinks I'm not looking. She should know my choice already. My fingers curl around the wedding band as I raise my eyebrow.

" _You...don't...want me?"_

"Jasper, don't do this."

She's not sad when she looks at the ring that I gave back. Just disappointed, weary. As am I of this relationship. It's long past time I did this. It's all been a sham, this whole pretending we're mates. In truth, she ambushed me in Philadelphia, started spouting all this shit about 'vegetarianism'. We got married because Carlisle said it would be best. I took Rosalie's last name so I wouldn't confuse all the poor little humans. I am sick of pretending to be what I am not. I am not hers.

"Goodbye, Alice."

" _I promise that this will be the last time you'll see me. I won't come back. I won't put you through anything like this again. You can go on with your life without any more interference from me. It will be as if I'd never existed."_

 _I am numb. And yet, everything hurts. My hands are shaking. I wipe them on my jeans, trying to look anywhere but him as he keeps talking. I reply without understanding anything my mouth is doing, the sounds that I make. I am disconnected, watching myself from somewhere else feebly give in to his leaving me. I am weak._

" _Goodbye, Bella."_

 _I am left alone. In the forest. I sit where I am, trying to make sense of what just happened. Did...did I just get dumped? What a shitty way to do it too. I laugh, and the sound shocks me, bringing me to my senses. I begin to cry. Massive, harrowing sobs that rip through my body. It hurts, everything hurts, he hurt me. I need something to stop the pain, anything. I would say him, but..._

 _At some point, I exhaust myself. I gaze forlornly at the forest ahead of me, sniffling and wiping my eyes, consider following him. To what end? To be hurt again? To be left again? Disposed of? The fact that I would willingly go through it all again just to see his face, to feel his cool breath whirl around me sickens me. Am I really that masochistic? That I would seek out the bringer of pain, of tumult and turmoil, just because he's beautiful? Because I'm in love?_

 _The word sends me reeling, my stomach heaves. I empty it beside me, gagging until there's nothing left. The weightless feeling is nice. I could do with more of that. After all, I had been nothing but a burden._

 _On shaky legs, I stand. I try to clear my head, rubbing my eyes as I breathe in as deep as I can manage. I stumble back home. His car is gone. He is gone. It makes me lurch, but I catch myself, holding the door frame. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I can manage. I will survive._

 _I open the door and walk unsteadily past the kitchen. I wasn't aware that I was thirsty until I saw the tap dripping. Must have been all that crying. I grab a plastic cup, not trusting myself with glass in this state. I'm an accident waiting to happen. I turn to lean against the sink, gulping back the water as fast as I could. A glint in the sparse sunlight catches my eye. Above the fridge, a bottle. A glass bottle. A glass bottle filled with whiskey._

 _An internal debate ensues, but the winner is clear from the start. Charlie won't realize, there's cola in the fridge to mix it with, and I'm alone in need of numbing. I grab the bottle and cola and head on up to my room._


	7. Chapter 7

I stay behind after the family leaves. May as well enjoy having a house to myself, at least for a little bit. Given time, I'll move, but for now...a man just needs some quiet to wank and think.

I mostly spend my days reading though, sitting in the filtered sunshine, glittering like a fairy where no one can bother me. I go back through my history books, relive the days of my youth, the days of the war. It was only a couple nights ago I figured out that I was reading too fast, and I turned to leftover novels to pace myself out. They don't hold my attention as long as facts, or however close the historians got, but at least they're something.

Eventually though, I have to face reality. As rain dribbles down the windows, I bring out the cardboard boxes and markers.

I tape up another box of my books and scribble the titles onto the side of it mindlessly. I may not have much in the way of possessions, but I'm already wondering if the Lexus I bought will have enough space. I suppose it shouldn't really matter, aside from books and clothes I don't have much to bring. I should be used to living life simple, on the run, like I did with Mari-

I swallow back a frustrated growl and sweep a lonely book off the shelves, falling back on the too soft bed. I don't bother to remove my boots. Damn thing was only really for decoration. Alice and I barely got to use it, seeing as we don't sleep and all. Seems a shame though, the headboard is solid and it doesn't creak. It still has its uses. I may not like her for her personality, but no man could deny she'd look good with her legs spread, wrists tied to the iron, all naked and begging for-

I slam the book on my forehead, trying to distract myself from those thoughts. _Now is not the time Jasper, you do not need to be thinking of your ex wife._ I open up the pages and start scanning the words.


	8. Chapter 8

My head hurts. No- it fucking pounds. My brain is beating against the confines of my skull and I wish it would stop.

I roll over, stare at the door. The white paint hurts my eyes. I close them again, stretching over the side of the bed. Cold glass reaches up to me, lifts me out of the heated blankets embrace. I bring it to my lips, swigging dregs. The taste sours in my mouth.

What's the time? The alarm clock screams seven in flashing red at me. Time to go make breakfast, I guess.

" _That's it, Bella! I'm sending you home."_

I stare at Charlie in shock. Did...did he know? I had been so careful to hide it, what little of it there was left for him to see. Buying my own, putting the bottles in someone else's recycling, drinking only when he's away or asleep. I never mention it, never get caught, only drink enough to keep a buzz- except for when it's too much.

Too much happens too often. Whenever I look at my CD player, where his disc once spun so often, it's too much. I take a swig. Whenever I look at the window where he would climb in, it's too much. I take a swig. Whenever I look at the rocking chair, where he would sit and hold me, it's too much. I take a swig. His parking spot - swig - silver cars - swig - his seats in my classes - swig - pianos - swig -

I lift a glass of milk up to my lips. Too much. Charlie watches me, gauging my reaction.

" _You never do anything."_

So...he doesn't know? Good. But how am I supposed to go out, do things, when everywhere just reminds me of _him?_ My minds rushing now, trying to figure out if I should give in and leave, or stay in the hopes that he'd come back.

" _You're just...lifeless, Bella."_

I turn my hands over on the table. I'm still moving, breathing, eating, sleeping. Is there anything left to life anymore? What is left? But- I know what he means. I am only surviving, holding on to damaging 'coping mechanisms' that are hurting me, not healing me. I glare at the space atop the fridge.

" _I'm sorry, Dad."_

And I am, honest. I wanted to be something better, something more. I could have been smart, successful, something. Instead, I am the faded jeans, a washed up daughter that's more failure than fight. I am nothing.

I need another drink.

" _I don't want you to apologize."_

A foreign flame of fire lights in my stomach. What am I supposed to do then? Your Bella is gone, she's dead, she died in those woods. I don't know who I am, but I'm not her, and I can't pretend, not even for you. Even if I dropped the drink, went out and did something with my life, it wouldn't be worth it. Not...not without him.

" _Then tell me what you want me to do."_

Classic me. Be a zombie. Take instructions. Do as you're told. Don't make a fuss. Don't be an individual. I smirk, thinking about how perfect I would have been at the beginning of the industrial revolution, the exact person an employer would want. Here's what you do, now do it. Poke that button. Sort these products. Count this batch.

I shake my head. My train of thought is chugging away from where it needs to be. Industrial revolution, where did I even get that from? I need to top up the vodka in my bottle if I'm remembering my history lessons.

" _I want you to be happy- no, not even that much. I just want you not to be miserable. I think you'll have a better chance if you get out of Forks."_

My mind races. Do I stay, just in case he comes back? Says he wants me? Needs me? Or do I try this time, do I leave? Not look back? Go running back home to my mommy, crying about a boy she barely knew?

Charlie watches me as I try to come up with an excuse to stay.

School? You'll do fine.

Getting in the way? She'll be happy to have you back.

Florida's too hot?

" _It's been months. You can't keep waiting for him."_

The words chip at the walls I'd built. I swallow down the breakfast threatening to come up. _Yes I can yes I can yes I ca-_

"You're right"

What? Did...did I really just agree? I pinch my thigh under the table, hissing as I strike half-healed scars. I'd nearly forgotten about that.

He seems...relieved. Maybe...maybe this is the right thing to do. I have to get over him some time. Yea, I can't wait forever. He left me. Fuck him.

Thinking that nearly makes me cry.

"I'll help you pack. I've already organized it with Renee, so you can road trip, take your time to think it over on the highways."

My eyes nearly bulge out my head. That hurts...I have to take some aspirin later.

"That's like...a 50 hour trip," I gasp.

"We trust you. Anyway, I want you to keep the truck, and you really do need the time."

I'm too shocked to do anything but stare. He smiles weakly at me, before draining his coffee and standing.

"Make sure to get all your school stuff sorted, say goodbye to your friends and all. I'll get you some money to take care of gas and food and stuff."

He rests a hand on my shoulder, looks down lovingly at me.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart."

Introducing Industrial Bella 2000. Dances when told. Sings when told. Runs when told. And takes a swig when her daddy leaves, before she goes off to do as she's told.

And she needs more alcohol.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaving procedures suck.

The teachers all look disappointed when I ask them to sign off the sheet, wishing me the best. I smile weakly, biting back the voice inside that's screaming. Y _ou're boring! I was drunk in your class for how long? You don't care that I'm leaving!_

The librarian offers me some books to take that no one reads anymore, old classics that apparently only I'm interested in. I don't know why, but I say yes. I'm in a book mood today. It makes her smile. She signs off happily, glad her work is done.

Jess and Angela cry on me at lunch, even Mike mentions how he'll miss me. I sip from my bottle as they load me with praise, promise to write and email and call. I don't care. They weren't there for me when I needed them, and now I'm going.

I don't remember exactly when I shut myself off like this. I don't remember always being this isolated. It's...lonely. But that apathetic, surly voice in my head tells me that I don't care. I take another swig.

When the bell goes, I sit in my truck until the car park is clear. Rain pitters on the windscreen. I'm torn. Do I go home or do I-

My hands move of their own accord.

 _Rain washes the blood off the side of my mouth. The taste of bear is rancid, nothing compared to humans. I don't even know why I keep hunting like this. Habit maybe… But still. I could have gone to the outskirts of town, smiled at some poor innocent girl, lured her away. Held her against a wall, played with her hair and kissed up her neck, hand at the small of her back. Maybe I'd get her to give me some before she dies, driving her to the precipice of pleasure. Feel her legs wrap around me, fingers dig into faded scars, have her gasp my name. And then, bathe in the screams of her orgasm and terror._

 _My dick twitches, and I ignore it. That's fucking sick, man. Gross. I start walking back home._

The driveway is exactly how I left it. How it's been for months now. I haven't come back, not since-

I don't remember driving here even. Maybe it's the drinking, maybe its something else, but I'm not remembering a whole lot lately.

I lurch out my truck, leaning on it a little until the world stops spinning. I have to stop driving like this. Its illegal, its unsafe.

The steps up to the house give me a little trouble, but I manage. Fingers curling around the door handle, I wonder if it'll even be unlocked. Knowing my luck, this would have all been in vain. I cross the fingers on my other hand, and turn.

 _A car's engine shudders up my drive. What the fuck? I hope it's just some random, someone who's lost. I don't want to have to deal with humans today. Especially with blood on the collar of my shirt. I hang back, moving slowly forward through the trees, trying to get a better look._

The door swings open, and I let go of a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

Everything is where it was before they left, when I was here last. The piano, the couches, the table. Nothing has changed. I don't know if that was what I expected, what I'd hoped to find. But it's some sort of comfort.

I move through the lounge, sweeping dust off the top of the couch as I walk past. Rain glimmers on the windows, a soft veil of sound surrounding the house. As I begin to look harder, remember, I notice some things are missing. A rack of CD's are gone, the books and magazines aren't here anymore. I stare longingly up the stairs...should I? Or should I not?

My feet move before I can stop myself.

 _I decide to go in through the back. I shouldn't have left the front door unlocked, that was stupid. Although, what's there really left to steal? They all took the possessions they wanted, just about everything left is replaceable._

 _Although, it did sound like a big truck. Maybe it's someone come to steal the TV? I might miss that. Some couches? I still don't see the point._

 _I open the back door, slide through as quickly and quietly as I can. Really, there was no need for my precaution, I'm sure any burglar would be scared shitless by someone else being in the house. Especially with blood around their mouth._

I hesitate outside his door. Surely I can't do that. But...why not? Just a little more closure, making sure he really has left, before I go too. That's not so bad, right? Suddenly I'm wishing I had bought in that whiskey with me.

The door swings open as easily as I remember, and the memories flood me.

Him, sweeping my hair behind my ears. Him, breath swirling in my face. Him, kissing me so chastely.

A deer in the headlights, I stare. There is nothing else for me to do. My body will not move. I am paralyzed by the knowledge that he has left. And he really has. All those discs, gone. His books, gone. Clothes, gone. Him...gone.

Maybe that's for the best.

I pinch my thigh again, narrowly avoiding cuts I had made just before lunch.

 _Why are they just standing there? I can't hear movement, I can't hear talking. It...it's only one person. The scents so familiar too._

 _I consider calling out, letting them know I'm here. Something tells me no, to continue being silent._

 _What the fuck are they doing?_

His bed still smells like him. That's almost strange, considering he doesn't sleep, but still...it's nice. It's comforting. I want to stay, to curl up in his blankets and pretend he's out on a hunt, that he'll be home to hold me soon. My fingers itch to pull back the covers, to rest.

I have to be stronger than that though. There's a reason I'm leaving. Because he's already gone.

I turn on my heel, storm out his room. I slam the door for good measure. That'll show him.

I'm in Alice's room before I know it. Seeing the remainder of her things doesn't hurt so bad. All her magazines are gone though, which seems weird. But you can still tell this room was hers. So it's even stranger to see the bed sheets rumpled. Maybe she just never bothered to straighten them out when she was packing her clothes. Oh right- her clothes.

Tentatively sticking a hand through the wardrobe doors, I switch on the lights. _Please no spiders, pretty please_. Nothing skitters over my hand, and the light flashes on immediately. I'm astounded by the amount she left behind. She loves her fashion so much, to leave so many pieces here is almost unlike her. But I don't mind. I poke through some of the hangers, trying to find something to pinch. Obviously she's not missing any of it.

But everything is too small. Too sparkly. Too pristine, too rich, too Alice. I decide I don't want any of it.

With a huff, I turn the lights off and stalk out the room. My foot catches on something though, and I fall with a surprised gasp.

"Fuck!"

I check my knee, pat my forehead, rub my arms. Nothing's broken, nothing's bleeding. Good. I'm glad that no one is here to have heard that.

What did I even trip over? The spilled pile of books next to me provides an explanation. I pick one up that must have been from the top of the pile. "Gone With the Wind." Margaret Mitchell doesn't strike me as someone that Alice would read, but shrugging, I hold on to it.

A stabbing sensation in my head warns me that if I don't drink soon, I am in for a nasty hangover. I hobble downstairs without exploring any further, and throw myself and the book in my truck. Washing down an aspirin with the last of my vodka, I journey back home.

 _She walked past too quickly for me to see, but she didn't strike me as the burglar type. Just some weird girl that manages to find the house and decides to walk on through it? It doesn't make sense to me, but I'll go with it. From the lingering, yet faint scent of alcohol though, I'd take it was just another drunkard looking for a place to nap. I'm not going to stop her from driving I guess._

 _Still, it bothers me that someone just came in. That someone else knows about this house. Sighing, I walk upstairs. I should probably leave soon. I straighten up the pile of books that she fell over, counting to make sure they were all still there. 5, 6, 7- hold on. I recount, try to remember which titles were there._

 _I pull back the blankets on the bed, searching frantically for the book. Nothing._

 _Bedside table? Nothing._

 _Under the bed? The floor? The shelves? The leftover books? The pile again? Nothing._

 _So that's what she was holding._

 _She stole my copy of "Gone With the Wind." With my bookmark still in it._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm not dead! I am however, incredibly sorry for the long wait. Christmas break and getting my own laptop, these things take time. But now I can type these up whenever,** I **should be closer to consistent. I always love feedback, if you're happy to give it :3**

"You'll be safe, right? Take a break every four hours. I don't care how many hotels you have to stay in, you just take your time, alright sweetheart?"

There are few times I've seen Charlie vocalize his worries. I don't like it. I reassure him that I'll be fine, I'll take photos to send when I'm taking a break from driving, I'll text him and mom every time I stop, if the truck makes funny noises I call the mechanics immediately. No hitchhikers, no disreputable motels, no running away into the sunset.

Running away is tempting. I've fantasized that many times about running far into the woods, bottle and blade in hand. Not coming back out again, ever. Somehow though, it's almost easier not to. I don't want to worry my parents, make them deal with that. And...I did promise. If not for _him,_ I'll hold up as much as I can of that promise for Charlie.

I'm not entirely sure if I've broken that promise though. Between cutting and drinking, driving while drunk, drinking and taking meds, purposely overdosing to get to sleep, and barely eating surely there's not much more that I can do that is "reckless." I try not to dwell on that thought, just in case I get any bright ideas.

Charlie gives me an uncharacteristic hug before I climb into the cab, watches as I start the engine and pull out of the drive. I wipe away tears that are threatening to travel down my cheek. If I start crying I'll be in no fit state to drive...if you ignore the alcoholic daze I'm sitting in. I blast the horn and drive away. Charlie shrinks in my mirror, and when I turn the corner, he's gone. Goodbye, dad.

My hands shake on the steering wheel. I didn't think it would be this tough to turn away from a place I had learnt to call home. Even with all the horrible memories associated with it, all the haunted places that I can't walk anymore...this is still somewhere I want to be. I think I learnt to love the rain.

Fiddling with the new stereo that I bought after realizing how handy the last brief one was, I put on "If You Leave," by Daughter. I hit the edge of town by the time Smother comes on. Fumbling in the glove box for a bottle, I sing along.

 _I'm wasted, losing time  
I'm a foolish, fragile spine  
I want all that is not mine  
I want him but we're not right_

After four toilet stops, two packets of chips, five sticks of gum, and ten hours of driving, I turn into the Little River Motel. I'd hit the Montana state border not that long ago, and my ass is numb from all the driving.

I give Ol' Red a pat for behaving so nicely on the road, and slide out of the cab. Not trusting the jelly legs beneath me, I lean across the seat to grab my overnight bag. Bottles clink together and I hurriedly wrap them in my hoodie lest I get caught lugging them in. Half sure that I wouldn't be given away, I lumber inside, humming Youth by Foxes.


	11. Chapter 11

The loss of my copy of Gone With the Wind still irks me. What kind of person stumbles into a random, secluded house and steals a book of all things? In fact, it doesn't just annoy me in the niggling way, I'm fucking pissed. She walked past a perfectly good television, she was in Alice's all brand-name, top designer closet, she could have stolen the more expensive records from Mindfuckers room for all I care. But no, she takes my _original_ copy of Gone With the Wind!

I've never been much of a man for fiction, but standing in the bookstore in the summer of 1936, I thought why not? The nod to the civil war would interest any vet, surely. And I bought it, quite happily. I've read it hundreds of times since. On trains, in cars, at every home that I've lived in with those vegetarians, in school even. And now...now its gone.

I'm extremely tempted to hunt the girl, follow her scent just to get my book back. I might struggle a little because of the car, but my determination will not falter. I almost do, in fact. With my nose against a jersey that she must have held against her from Alice's closet, I'm ready to give chase. Then _that fucker_ calls me.

"Hey dude, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but how about no?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Peter?"

"Your book. It's safe, being cared for. You don't need it."

I nearly throw my phone. I am the one who told him about the book, had discussed its contents time and time again with him every visit, had introduced him to the damn thing. That book was in my bag every time we moved, was placed gently on every bookshelf and bedside table I had, accompanied me through every shitty high school I attended. It is my crutch, my escape, my link to the world. I was the one who showed him what a piece it was and he's telling me that my wrongly dated first batch print is something I _don't need?_

"Calm down, Jas. I have a copy here at home for you, okay?" he purrs down the line.

The way he says that...this man knows me so well. I smile and lean against the wall, hand holding the hair out my face. It doesn't occur to me that I hadn't told him I was coming back. No matter, I'm happy. Still wouldn't be _my_ copy, but close enough, I suppose. Although, I could always buy my own down the road.

"Better be, you know I hate not having something to read."

He laughs, a sound that sends shivers down my spine.

"I know. Just don't exceed the piddly humans travel limits just to get to it sooner, okay? I'll see you soon," a slow smile brightens my face, "and don't exhaust yourself too much before you get here, okay Sir?"

My eyes snap open. Dear lord, that went straight to my cock… I've missed him calling me Sir. Lust hazes my vision for a second before I blink it away to answer.

"We'll see. Say hi to Char for me."

Her voice sounds in the distance, something about hurrying the fuck up because she misses me. We say goodbye and I end the call, tossing the phone onto the counter. I try not to think too hard about Peter spread over it with his smart-arse comments and hot mouth and-

Trying to distract myself, I turn back to the matter at hand. But thinking about my stolen book frustrates me, and the boner stretching my jeans isn't helping. When did I last wank even? Must have been a while ago for it to be this bad. Laying on the couch, I unzip my jeans, lifting my hips up to push them down, and pull myself through the fly of my boxers.

With a groan, I begin.


End file.
